Recruiting
by hungergamesfan101
Summary: -First Class Universe- Professor Xavier is recruiting for his new school. He comes across several young mutants in need of guidance. Better than it sounds, I promise! Rated M for cursing and because I'm paranoid!


Chelsea Adams, 1963

As rain drops quietly pattered down on the beaten up old white window pane of the small house, her light blue eyes stared out into the rainy nothingness, searching for a way out. She had hoped that for years, the nearly constant rain of the Pacific Northwest would just wash her away from life. No such luck.

Now, at 17 years old, she sat with her legs curled to her chest like a child. She wanted out so badly. Although the only inhabitants of the small house were that of her and her father, the air felt so heavy that she feared it might crush her. The roof would come down and the world would fall around her like the rain did on the house. But the air hadn't always been so heavy; in fact, at one point she remembered that the air had once been full of joy and love. She only remembered it vaguely.

She was alone again. Her father would often leave for days on end in search of more alcohol: something to cover the pain. Sometimes she would forget how many days it had been. To date, the longest he ever left was 15 days. She often feared he was dead, laying in a ditch somewhere. But long ago she had prepared herself for the knock on the door that the police would bring, giving her the news.

Today was day 3. He left late Sunday night after he became extremely upset that there was no more beer in the house, something he blamed her for. And it being Wednesday, she had the fading black eye to prove his anger and distrust of her. Of course she had never actually done anything to deserve this treatment, but she always felt there was something she had done to provoke him. Every slap. Every kick. Every punch. Every bruise. It was her fault. Maybe if she didn't look so much like her mother, he wouldn't despise her so much. Maybe he would be able to look at her in the face.

She had her mother's dark brown hair, which trailed three quarters of the way down her back, full with natural waves. She shared her mother's lovely olive skin tone as well, with just a few dainty freckles across the bridge of her once delicate nose. After having been bruised and broken on several occasions, it now was slightly larger and protruded a bit more out from her face. However, even with the damaged cartilage, it still wasn't horrible. She certainly wasn't difficult to look at. The most striking thing about her was her ice blue eyes; a quality neither of her parents possessed. But she never found herself to be pretty. She thought she looked weird, awkward, and out of place from most of the people in her town. As King County, Washington doesn't receive much sunlight due to the near constant rain, most people are very fair skinned. She sticks out like a sore thumb and knows it.

She steps away from the bay window where she had been sitting and moves to the kitchen to prepare dinner in case he does come home tonight. She searched through the empty and dusty cabinets for something edible. This was usually a futile attempt, but tonight she came across an old box and macaroni and cheese. She quickly prepares the little meal, and sets two places at the table. She almost finds herself laughing at her actions, as a part deep inside knows he won't come home for dinner; another empty place mat.

She sat at the table for maybe an hour. She picked at the food, but found herself putting nearly all of it into the fridge. At some point in that hour it had become completely dark outside, but still the rain persisted on. She silently walked into her small room, changed into shorts and a shirt, keeping her socks on, and laying on top of her bedspread. She let the soft pattering of rain lull her to sleep as it often did.

The loud crashing of the front door swinging open and the drunken slur of _"Chelsea!"_ quickly woke her from her sleep. She quickly got up and poke her head into the living room, where the noise of stumbling and bumping into furnisher came from. He was drunk. Again.

He spots her from the corner of his bloodshot eye, and unleashes a slew of hateful words onto her. _"You bitch. I hate you!"_ he yells, pointing at her. Chelsea does not dare make eye contact. Thankfully, he is too drunk to fight her. He quickly loses interest in her and passes out on the couch.

With that, Chelsea retires back to her room. It's still dark out, as the clock on her bedside table says 3:25am. She curls back up by the bay window. It's still raining.

After a few more hour of sleep, Chelsea rises to get ready for school. She looks out into the living room and watches her father there. She watches his chest rise and fall a few more times before she returns to her morning routine. She brushes through her beautiful hair, uses just enough makeup to cover the black eye she recently acquired, and brushes her teeth. She slips into some old jeans and zips a grey jacket up. She laces her old shoes up, and wraps the scarf around her neck. For only being the beginning of October it is already very cold. And with that, she is out the door.

The walk to school only takes about fifteen minutes. She keeps her head down most of the way, with her book bag slung over her shoulder. She notices as she nears the school, a man in the parking lot across the road watching her intently. He looks to be in his late twenties and is dressed very well. She does her best to brush it off and she continues into the school.

The day is uneventful. She turns in her homework and takes a math test. It was over pre-calculus; a topic very new to the class. She understands it easily. Quite frankly, she doesn't understand why everyone thinks all their classes are so hard. She's never had trouble understanding her course work, especially those in math and science. She leaves school as the final bell rings and the sky is overcast, threatening yet more rain. Since she does not have an umbrella handy, Chelsea decides to walk quickly. As she crosses the street, she notices something. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him. The man from this morning. He is there again, just watching her. She stops and stares back, and then becomes absolutely certain he's looking at her. She's annoyed by this and wants to walk over and demand to know what his problem is, even though she can tell his stare is very non-threatening.

Before she turns away from him, she gets a good look. He's probably in his late twenties or early thirties. He has dark hair and fair skin. He dressed very well, like something from one of those preppy catalogs the girls at school always have. But why is he staring at her? She is nothing special. Or so she believes. She quickly returns home to find the house yet again empty. She sets her book bag down next to the kitchen table, and pulls out a book and flips it open. _ "Anatomy and Physiology"_ Perfect. She begins the assignment of labeling the chambers of the heart and which direction they pump blood. She is nearly thirty minutes into her work a soft knock at the front door pulls her from her thoughts.

She takes a moment to get up and move toward the door. Who would be at their door? Certainly not her dad, as he would just barge in. She never had visitors. She opens the door slightly to see who it is when the hair on the back of her neck stands on end. The man from the parking lot. He followed her home. "Who are you?" Chelsea finds herself blurting out. "Pardon me, I'm terribly sorry." He says. "I should've introduced myself sooner. My name is Charles Xavier." He extends a hand toward her. She does not take it, and instead eyes him suspiciously from behind the door. He retracts his hand and clears his throat. He's British, she takes notice. "Chelsea, I.." "How do you know my name?" she immediately cuts him off. A moment of silence.

"Well…" he starts again "Believe it or not, I know a lot more about you than your name." He does his best to give her a friendly smile. "Like what?" she questions suspiciously.

"Your full name is Chelsea Anne Adams, you born on October 2, 1946. That means you recently celebrated your 17th birthday, and you live with your father, Michael. Your mother is deceased, you have no living relatives nearby, and you were born in Seattle, Washington. You're three quarters American Indian and one quarter German. You're 5'6" tall, weigh approximately 126 pounds according to your last physical, which by the way was over three years ago, and you've never had any cavities or fillings for that matter. When you were 6 you had a dog named Brewser who ran away, you're allergic to nuts, and you're also a mutant."

She stood there with what had to be the most stupid look fathomable on her face. How did he know all that? And what the hell did he want? And what did he call her? A mutant? "I'm a what?" she finally managed to ask. "Oh yes, a mutant." He was answered with a blank stare. "Genetically speaking, you are the next stage of human evolution. Your DNA is mutated to give you special abilities that no one else has." Another blank stare. "I'm one too. I can read minds." "No you can't." she said, attempting to call his bluff. He nodded his head. "Can too." "Prove it. Tell me what I'm thinking." "I love this bit" he said with a small chuckle. He placed two fingers to his temple and stared into her eyes. Silence. He said nothing, yet his own voice rang out into her head. _"You're thinking that there's no way this crack pot can read minds_." She gasped and stepped back. "How'd you do that?" she snapped, still completely shocked. He smiled and simply tapped his fingers to his temple.

"Chelsea, the reason I'm here is because I want to offer you protection." "What do you mean protection?" she said, more confused now than before. "The world is not ready to accept us yet." "Well you're wasting your time because I don't have any powers! I think I would know if I did." She snapped. "Of course you do," chuckled. "Like?" she asked, now genuinely curious. "You are incredibly intelligent, more so than those around you. And it's not just remembering math equations or formulas is it? You can remember sequences of numbers and letters with ease. Patterns." He was right. She could do that. "Everyone can do that!" she said. He chuckled, surprised by her belief in that. "No they can't. Actually, very very few people in the world can. And not even they can do it as easily as you can." "So I'm good at math, big whoop." She said. "Chelsea, what's 123 times 68?" "8364, why?" she spouted off without thought. He gave her a moment to think about it. "Oooooohhhhh….." she said, finally realizing that no one can really do that without a calculator. "Ok, so what do I do with my power? How am I dangerous?"

"If people find out, they will fear you." He said. "Why? I'm not dangerous." She answered back. "People fear what they don't understand." Charles said. "So what do I do now?" she asked. "Chelsea, I own a school in New York for students like yourself, other mutants. I would like you to seriously consider attending." He said. "I could never do that. That's too expensive, and.." "It's free of cost. Everything you need is provided for you. Food. Clothes. Shelter." He countered. "Well, I could never go, I have responsibilities here and.." "You know you're not responsible for him right?" he asked. She was taken back. No one had ever said anything like that to her before. She could tell he knew a lot more about her situation than he was letting on. Before she could respond, she heard the familiar hum of her father's truck coming up the road.

"You have to go!" Chelsea suddenly snapped. Panic overtaking her. She could not let her dad find this out! He seemed to understand her panic and began walking down the path, but not before reaching into his coat pocket and handing her a brochure and a business card. "Please understand there is always a place at my school for you, Chelsea. Do not hesitate to contact me for anything." He said, and turned to walk away.

Just as Charles was exiting the property, her father pulled up, got out of his truck and began marching over to Chelsea. She quickly stuffed the brochure and card inside her jacket so he could not see. "Who the hell was that?" he snapped. "Uh, I'm not sure. He was just lost and needed some directions to the main road." she lied. "I don't need you botherin other people!" He snapped. "Go make me some god damned dinner! I'm starving!" and with that, she turned and went back inside.

***Ok, I plan on continuing this! Let me know what you think! Constructive criticism is always welcome! Let me know what you want to happen in the plot! Have an idea for a character that gets recruted? Inbox me and I might add them! Thanks for reading!***


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